What's in a Name?
by Le Comte de Saint-Nicholas
Summary: So short it's almost not a one-shot. When Halt is banished in 'The Icebound Land', Duncan, only naturally, needs his surname for it to be properly legal. And Halt's kidding himself if he thinks Duncan won't recognize the name 'O'Carrick'. May be extended later, or I may leave it as it is.
1. Chapter 1

**In this disclaimer, I solemnly disclaim before any god who may be bored enough to be listening, that I do not own Ranger's Apprentice.**

'….Halt. Former King's Ranger to Redmont Fief. I hereby, as lord of this realm of Araluen, declare you to be banished from all my lands and holdings.' The voice of King Duncan of Araluen rang out through the throne room of Castle Araluen. 'You are forbidden, under pain of death, to set foot in this kingdom again…' he paused. '…for the period of one year from this day.'

Halt's head shot up. He stared at the king is disbelief, his façade of calm dropping like a stone. Lord Anthony began to argue about politics and precedents, but the former ranger kept his eyes on Duncan. He had expected banishment. He had resigned himself to the sacrifice; to do whatever necessary to find Will. He had prepared himself to have his life crumble around him while he pretended not to care. He had been in control of the situation, predicting the verdict, gambling with his life and a loaded dice. But in control. He had expected retribution, punishment, justice. He had not expected mercy.

He watched silently as his future was decided in front of him. He watched as Duncan turned back to him, and met his gaze, and Halt nodded once, gratitude, relief even, evident to those who knew how to look.

'Halt…' said Duncan 'There's one more thing. A relatively small matter. We've always respected your silence about your past. We've always let you be' he said, gesturing to Crowley and Arald to include them in the phrase. 'But I'm afraid, this is one time we can't bend the rules for you. This is something unexpected, and serious, and we need to do it by the book.'

'Your majesty?' said Halt, puzzled. Or perhaps feigning ignorance, thought Duncan. It was fairly obvious where this was headed, whether Halt liked it or not.

'Halt. We need to know your surname.' Halt was silent and began to stare at the floor again. 'I wouldn't ask if I could get around it' said Duncan, keeping his voice level and reasonable, 'but I've done as much as I can for you and without this it all becomes void'. Halt remained silent, having retreated back into his shell of quiet and barely hidden sorrow.

'Halt…' pleaded Duncan, and Halt realised that this was as unpleasant for them as it was for him. Any further delay or pretence would just cause them more pain. He looked up again.

'Your majesty…' he began, faltered and started again. 'Your Majesty…. My name is Halt O'Carrick.'

Duncan nodded. It was a Hibernian name, and sounded vaguely familiar. 'Thank you.' He said simply. Halt nodded to him. As Halt was led away, Duncan tried to remember where he'd heard the name before. Then, when it was far, far too late, when Halt O'Carrick was long gone, he sat bolt upright on his throne, startling Crowley and Arald, and said 'O'Carrick…My God!'


	2. Chapter 2

**You remember last chapter when I said I didn't own Ranger's Apprentice? Guess what? Still don't.**

King Duncan of Araluen had a problem. He also had an entire office full of pressing paperwork, a full agenda for the next four months and a bloodthirsty maniac in a black cloak running riot in Highcliff fief. So he should by all natural laws be in the same stressed and anxious temper as in the past few weeks. But he wasn't- and hadn't been for a couple days. First he had been shocked. Then he had been sad. Then, briefly, angry. Then shocked had reappeared with a vengeance. And now he was perplexed. Having to banish a close friend and then discovering said friend shared a surname with the royal family of one of the Hibernian kingdoms will do that.

Currently he was pacing his office, his books clicking on the polished hardwood. 'O'Carrick…O'Carrick…' he muttered. Surely there had to be a mistake. But royal names were guarded jealously by the tinpot royals of Hibernia as another feature to distinguish them from the masses. And if the name bore no significance, why had Halt hidden it all these years. For that matter, why had he hidden where in Clonmel he came from? It was a glaring reminder of how little Duncan actually knew of the man. Suppose… suppose he was a member of the O'Carricks of Dun Kilty. Say, a minor one, cousin of the King's uncle twice removed or something like that. It was possible, thought Duncan. It might even be plausible, given the evidence. Someone far enough away from the throne to be allowed to spend their time in the woods with an exiled former Ranger, learning to sneak up on people. Then something must have happened. Something serious enough to have the young lordling riding into Araluen, looking for a job. Why had he burnt all the bridges to his past in Hibernia? What had he done? What crime, what political coup, had dropped his place in society so dramatically?

No matter what, Duncan couldn't imagine the Ranger, grim and pragmatic as he may be, committing a crime serious enough to warrant exile. Actually, he amended, he could imagine that of Halt, with astonishing ease and vividity. The still unresolved issue of the fraudulent copy of his own seal that Halt had used on more than one occasion and that Duncan was still pretending not to know about floated to mind. What he couldn't imagine was the Ranger being _caught_ at it. Maybe something else had happened- something against Halt, big enough to force him to flee the country. And then an alarming though crossed his mind; what of the political side of the issue? To take someone who was beginning to look seriously like a political refugee and give them an official post in the service of the King, even unwittingly, would be a serious impediment to future relations with Clonmel, should they ever discover it. He sat down at his desk and held his head in his hands, his mind whirling with thoughts and suspicions and half-formed ideas. 'Why, Halt?' he complained. 'Why do you have to be some blasted mysterious?' and he wondered who he could ask about the political records of the O'Carricks.


	3. Chapter 3

**I have returned! (Hold the applause). Sorry about the long wait, life got in the way. And exams. Especially exams. Just to warn you, my chapters are generally ridiculously short, and I have about three or four more in mind for this originally-planned-as-a-oneshot story. So if it takes me a while to update, I will be continuing, just probably…very…slowly…**

**Also thank you to all of the reviews (and at least one threat) that have inspired my little brainchild to grow. I don't demand a certain number of reviews before I update, but they make me feel happy and pleased with myself, and we all know that that is the point to writing.**

'O'Carrick, you say?' wheezed Richmond, the Royal Archivist of Araluen. He was a thin, blading man with watery eyes and a reedy voice.

'That's right' said Duncan. 'I'm looking for someone in particular.' Richmond had been Master Archivist since Duncan was a child, and the pair were old friends. If anyone in the castle, or indeed the entire country, could trace Halt O'Carrick in the convoluted Hibernian family trees, it was Richmond. The man was known for being scatter-brained and forgetful about almost everything, but had an encyclopaedic knowledge of every important political lineage from Araluen to the Constant Sea, making him the perfect place to begin Duncan's search for Halt's true identity.

'Halt O'Carrick…Halt O'Carrick…' muttered Richmond, leafing through a dusty volume the size of a serving platter and causing clouds of dust to fly into the air. 'Ah-hah! Here we are, your Majesty. Knew it sounded familiar.'

Duncan squinted in the dim light, trying to make sense of the small and spidery writing. Richmond noticed. 'Best if I tell you, perhaps, your Majesty. The records can be a little hard on unaccustomed eyes.' Duncan nodded, and Richmond began.

'Well, an odd business it was, I remember, by all accounts. This was near on twenty years ago now, before you were on the throne, and Halt O'Carrick was a young man. In the prime of his life, fit as a flea and all of that. And then one day, he's out fishing with his brother. No one about, no guards or courtiers or servants or what have you. And all that's really known is that two brothers went out fishing that day, and only one of them comes back. The brother comes running back to the castle-'

'Castle?' asked Duncan.

'Yes, castle, Dun Kilty this was, (not many other castles in Clonmel) and the brother comes running up saying that Halt O'Carrick's drowned, and there was nothing he could do, and oh, what a terrible accident it all was. Now that river was like a millpond that day, not even a breath of wind, or so the stories are, and it was well known that Halt was a strong swimmer. But no-one's ever found him since, alive or dead, and if he was still alive, why not march back up to Dun Kilty before his brother got a proper toehold in?' Richmond sighed deeply. 'So that's the story, your Majesty. Glad to help.'

Duncan nodded, deep in thought. 'What was the brother's name?' he asked.

'The brother? Ferris, of course.'

'Ferris?' A terrible, horrible realisation was slowly dawning on Duncan. 'But that would mean...'

'Oh, did I forget the beginning?' said Richmond with a wheezy laugh. 'I swear, I'm becoming dafter the older I get. Yes, King Ferris' brother, this was. Halt O'Carrick. Yes, that's right. Oh...Is something wrong?' he said, realising Duncan was already gone. He peered after the rapidly retreating figure, then shrugged and returned to the book to its shelf.

Duncan strode towards the gatehouse, the revelation pounding in his mind. King Ferris' _Brother_? King _Ferris'_ Brother! Halt? It was dumbfounding, but at the same time made perfect sense. And it was worse than Duncan had possibly feared. The younger brother to a foreign King, fleeing the country after an attempt on his life by Ferris, the heir to the throne? He shuddered to think what this would do to the Hibernian peace talks currently going on right here in Castle Araluen. There was another possibility, of course, but it was too awful to contemplate. If this was wrecking relations with Clonmel, the other possibility was systematically hunting down the relations, laughing whilst massacring them, and then for good measure, killing all their children as well.

He glanced at the sun. It was not yet noon. Halt had had some eighteen hours of his two days to leave the kingdom. There was still time. He reached the barracks by the gatehouse, home to the messenger corps. He strode inside, causing all of the messengers to leap to their feet hurriedly, confused looks on their faces. Addressing the captain, who saluted crisply, he ordered 'Send some of your fastest messengers to all the ports within two days travel of here. Urgent message, order of the King. Prevent if at all possible the former Ranger Halt leaving the kingdom, and escort him back to Castle Araluen. Speed is of the absolute essence. Understood?'


End file.
